Little Hellion
by Feyan
Summary: Harry was left on doorstep years ago, and since then he has decided that morals weren't all that important seeing as the lovely person who left him there clearly didn't have any. -St.Brutus!Harry-
1. As the Years Die

**Disclaimer: _No, I don't own the Harry Potter. If I did, Snape and Lily would be together :P or Draco would have a bit more gut.  
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**Warnings: Maybe a side Slash or Het pairing, _AU_, OCCness, OCs, Violence, Immorality, Sneakiness. **

**Title: _Little Hellion  
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**Chapter Title:_ As the Years Die  
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**Chapter Quote:** _"Choices are the hinges of destiny" ~ Pythagoras_

* * *

"He's going to have to defeat _him_ some day?" Lily whispered icily, clutching her youngest child, Blaine, closer.

Dumbledore had a sad look in his sparkling blue eyes, "Yes, he is the one the prophecy speaks of. I am sure of it. No other child was born as the seventh month dies - exempting his elder twin of course, but Blaine is the youngest."

"No this can't be! You can't possibly put my baby in this much danger, I won't let you!" Lily shrieked, her emerald eyes ablaze with protectiveness.

Albus Dumbledore sighed wearily and placed a wrinkled hand on her shoulder, "My dear," he stressed, choking back his own tears, "It must happen. Blaine Potter will vanquished Dark Lord Voldemort and we are all powerless to stop it."

Lily's fury raged, but sadness soon over came her, "What can we do, Headmaster? There must be something... anything to give him an advantage over You-Know-Who."

"Love him Lily. Protect him, care for him and cherish him. It is impossible to give Blaine enough magical knowledge to vanquish Lord Voldemort, but I believe it isn't magic that Blaine needs, but love, the only thing Voldemort knows not." Lily listened with fervor, promising over and over again in her head that she will love Blaine as much as she can. Give him the best presents, read him a story every night, let him play quidditch with his father... make Blaine the happiest child in the world.

She owed it to her parents, to all those dead because of that wretched Dark Lord.

"What about Harry?" She asked hesitantly, rocking the oblivious Blaine in her arms.

Dumbledore smiled,"There isn't any reason why you can't love them both. But if it comes down to it - the Dark Lord must be gone, and some may need to make some sacrifices to make that happen."

"I understand."

As they wallowed in their emotions, they missed a familiar fat gray rat scurrying across the floor.

* * *

"How about it, Lily?" James questioned her, glancing at their sleeping boys.

"Will it help?" She sighed, once again unamused that she didn't know a single thing about Pureblood traditions.

James gave her a crooked smile, "Of course. I just hope Harry won't mind in the future... making Blaine my heir instead of Harry with give Blaine more power and access to the money in case he needs any of it."

"More power?" Lily leaned forward a bit with excitement. Another thing that could help Blaine defeat the Dark Lord! Dumbledore had said that Blaine only needed lots of love and compassion to vanquish the Dark Lord, but more power wasn't something she wouldn't deny him.

Harry would understand. It is for the Greater Good after-all.

"Wait," Sirius called from the couch, "I can make Harry my heir instead. I don't plan on children..."

Lily frowned, "And if you do? Our lives are still ahead of us, you can't honestly think that you know what you are going to want after a few years."

"Harry is my godson. He's going to be upset that he was cheated out of his inheritance -"

"Cheated?" James interrupted heatedly, "We're trying to win the war Padfoot, not cater to every whim of Harry's."

Sirius sighed, "Whatever Prongs. I'll make his my heir, and he'll have the money and the power that comes with it. Harry would be like my own child."

"Harry would have to take on your name..." James warned unhappily.

"So be it. Harrison Sirius Potter-Black. I like it," Sirius clapped.

* * *

Lord Voldemort's lips curled into a smile full of sadistic intent. He knew the secret, his beloved treacherous rat had told him. It was really too bad that once a traitor, always a traitor. Wormtail was the perfect little spy, but he was such a risk.

The impenetrable wards of the Fidelius welcomed him, embracing his tall figure with a blanket of warmth and protection.

Light magic was such a fickle, trusting thing. If Dumbledore had any sense to put something a little more... nihilistic like the _'Sciens Obice_', he wouldn't even be standing here.

Walking up to the door, he blasted the sorry piece of wood off it's hinges with an unspoken curse, striding pridefully to the frozen James Potter. The pathetic Auror regained his senses quickly, "H-how...?" Voldemort laughed, a cold, high pitched trill that gave James his wits back.

"LILY! GET THE KIDS AND RUN! _HE'S_ HERE!" James whipped out his wand, ready to duel to the death, but Lily's horrified shriek alerted Voldemort to her position in the house. That woman couldn't get away with the prophecy child.

It was really too bad he didn't have time to finish off the disgusting blood-traitor.

Voldemort flicked his yew wand and James went flying back, crashing against the walls. Stupid thing didn't even have a chance. How could he when he was going up against _Lord Voldemort_?

The Dark Lord stalked up the stairs with a smirk on his snake-like face. He was unbeatable, and no _child_ could stop him. This would show Dumbledore how utterly hopeless the Light was.

This _Blaine Potter _was going to die.

The rustling inside of one of the bedrooms caught Voldemort's attention. This was it.

He threw it open, watching in apathy as Lily bravely placed herself in front of her children. "You monster. You will not get my children." Voldemort hardly had to raised his wand to knock Lily to the side.

Voldemort looked at the fallen Mudblood with disgust. She wasn't pretty. How could Severus had fallen for her?

"Well, well. Harry and Blaine, the _sleeping_ children," Voldemort mocked raising his wand, the killing curse at the tip of his tongue.

Harry opened his emerald eyes and yawned, unconsciously letting out a small wave of magic. Voldemort stopped in his tracks, looking between the two children with more scrutiny. If Blaine was the prophecy child, then why did Harry have more magic?

The old coot must have made a mistake. Harry must be the chosen one.

But of course he would kill both, just to be sure.

_"AVADA KEDAVRA!"_ Voldemort cast the Killing Curse at Harry but it missed.

It _missed_.

Lord Voldemort had never _missed_ before. It was always, _always_ perfectly spot on even a hundred meters away.

Blaine started crying and the noise grated on his nerves. The blond boy clung tightly to his brother, crushing him. Harry pierced Voldemort with his pained eyes.

Then Voldemort understood. There was nothing special about these children - except maybe the elder Potter who had somehow redirected his curse. What was that old fool playing at?

He stopped and cast diagnostic spells all over the house and what he discovered shocked him. There wasn't just a Fidelius like he had previously suspected, but ancient Potter Wards created by an ancestor of society.

And not just Light wards either, but Dark ones as well. Very Dark ones... and Voldemort was shocked beyond comprehension when he uncovered a hidden _'Anima Prohibetur,'_ Ward... a highly illegal protection that required a soul sacrifice and it was put here centuries ago.

Who knew the Potters were secretly so Dark?

This made Voldemort think. Unknown to everyone he knew the whole prophecy... it almost cost him Severus's life to dig so deeply and to apply so much magic inside of his mind, but he had gotten it.

The prophecy must be fake. A scheme of Dumbledore's.

A brash thought crossed Voldemort's mind, and his frown turned back into that evil smirk that sent everyone with a beating heart running. Oh yes, that old coot wanted to play, so he would play. But the Leader of the Light had once again underestimated Lord Voldemort.

No one underestimates Lord Voldemort and survives, for Lord Voldemort was too powerful to be estimated.

The Dark Lord twirled his wand between his fingers, thinking how he should start the 'fulfillment' of the prophecy. Blaine Potter... for him he would get a crude 'V' on his chest, that would tell the old coot that this boy was the 'prophecy child,' it was much too obvious to miss.

For Harry... the black-haired boy had en eerie beauty, even at such a young age, and Lord Voldemort had respect for attractiveness as he was once such himself. Harry Potter would get something smaller... just a prominent silvery half-circle under his left eye that resembled a C-Cedilla, the obscure rune for Ultimate Destruction.

Yes. He fully intended the boy to be a Death Eater some day. He was too powerful not to have.

Once Voldemort was done with his handiwork, he shed his plain black outer robes onto the floor and threw around some ash around the room. Then he made some powerful dark arts spell burns on the wall. Satisfied he fled by jumping out the window in his half-wraith form and flew away.

He wasn't a Slytherin for nothing. Now he could work in the shadows.

* * *

Cold shackles that radiated magic snapped shut around his wrists, and he felt a more powerful wave of panic overtake him. "James! Y-you… NO!" Tight black waves of hair shook violently, pleading to his best friend.

James had a sad look in his eyes, but refused to meet his gray ones. "I'm sorry, Sirius. I really am." He whispered softly.

Sirius's face blanched as reality dawned upon him. He couldn't go to Azkaban. Not when his precious godson needed him!

"I saved your life James! Yours and Lily's and Harry's and Blaine's!" Sirius shouted as loudly as he could, as the Auror behind his back began to slowly drag him to the apparation line. Sirius resisted with all his might, ripping the skin on his wrist. But he didn't care.

A tear leaked out of James's eye, "It was a dark spell, _Black_, a very dark spell."

"I had to do it to save your life," Sirius choked out brokenly, his knees collapsing. The Auror grunted at the weight before casting a weightless charm.

James didn't respond.

"I killed six Death Eaters! Is that a crime? Could a simple _'Diffindo'_ or '_Deprimo'_ have done it?"

Hazel eyes brazenly met his own, slightly cracked glasses reflecting how terrible he looked. "They were burned alive while ripping their own limbs off," James self consciously dusted off his blood soaked robes before grimacing at the wet red liquid. "And… Wormtail was with them. You _murdered_ Peter!"

Intense rage surged through his veins, "Peter? This is about _Peter_?" Sirius laughed hysterically, mud accumulated on his robes as he was dragged through it. "He had that _thing_ branded on his arm. If anyone's the murder it's him!"

James snarled at him, "No Sirius! He was one of Dumbledore's secret spies! How dare you accuse him of anything when you've just cast horrible _Dark Magic_?"

"I-I-I," Sirius stuttered, "I saved your life James. I saved your _bloody_ life. I saved your precious Lily's life and her _unborn child_. How dare _you,_" Sirius gripped icily, casting his eyes downwards missing the homicidal gleam in his former friend's eyes.

"Are you trying to goad me? Are you trying to use my pregnant wife against me? You're worse than I thought. For all I know, _you _could be the spy. Everything would make perfect sense then."

Sirius bared his teeth, almost at the apparation line, "I the spy? You're going to throw away a decade of friendship because I killed some of our enemy? Do I have that blasphemous snake hissing on my arm?"

"Good Bye." James retorted stiffly before turning around and walking away. Sirius wanted to accuse him of cowardice, to shout and yell and kick. James had turned into a total boot-licking pansy after Blaine had vanquished the Dark Lord only weeks ago.

His James wouldn't have left him like this.

Sirius screamed at he felt the churning sensation of being pulled through a too small tube. His toes went numb, then his legs, then his arms and chest and face.

_Harry… _

* * *

Lily clutched the green bundle to her bosom, "No James! I won't let him go, you've seen what they're like!" Her child was quiet, oblivious and sleeping. Lily stroked Harry's hair, grasping to the feel of how the delicate hairs clung to her fingers.

"This isn't about you or me, Lily," James raged, "This is about the wickedness of the Blacks! You know Sirius did the heir ritual on him -"

"You agreed to it!" Lily shouted indignantly, green eyes blazing.

"I know, and that's my fault," James lowered his head in shame, "I should have known Sirius was just playing with us. I should have done the research sooner... what was I _thinking?_ Now I'm going to lose my son." James cried out, clenching his fists.

Lily's heart went out to her husband, "We'll just keep him in the muggle world then," She resolved, "Petunia loves children - Dudley would have a brother. There is no way Harry could find his way back to us, he'll grow up as a muggle no one would be the wiser."

James looked up at her glossy eyed, "Do you want to do the runes or shall I?"

"I'll do it. Go play with Blaine, he hasn't seen either of us all day.

* * *

"Vernon?" Petunia Dursley quietly called out, disbelieving of the sight in front of her. "Vernon. VERNON!" She quickly gathered her wits and called out to her husband, uncaring if the neighbors heard her.

"Come quick, Oh my god Vernon! Quickly!" Petunia put her hands around her neck and gasped, not wanting to understand.

Heavy footsteps quickly stomped down the steps, and Vernon appeared, worry evident on his face, "Pet? What's the matter?

"Look!" She screeched, pointing at the green bundle sitting innocently on her porch.

"Bring it in then," Vernon muttered, too sleepy to think straight, "Don't want the neighbor's to see."

So they brought in the child, not noticing the doleful hazel and brilliant green eyes watching.

* * *

"You freaky freak," Dudley spat, imitating his father, "Good for nothing bedlam!" Harry curled up tighter in a ball, hugging his knees to his chest. The tears stopped coming weeks ago, there just wasn't anymore left in his reserves.

Vernon stomped heard the racket and came to his cupboard. "Dudley get out of there!" He hissed, "It's dirty!"

Dudley, his older cousin stuck his tongue out at him before following his father.

Harry didn't like his room. Well actually maybe a little... no. He didn't like it. He didn't think he was fortunate to have it, like his Uncle Vernon said, and he didn't think that orphanages had it worse.

He didn't think that he was lucky to have his clothes, because everyone was supposed to have clothes. Harry even been forced to wear Dudley's cast-offs, but when they blatantly slipped off his figure, he heard Petunia mutter that he was too skinny. Genetically of course.

Although he wasn't completely satisfied with his life, he did like his appearance... except for the fact that he was too skinny. His emerald eyes were a beautiful shade and black hair was stark against porcelain skin. There was also the cool scar under his left eye that his uncle had told him that he gotten when he was dropped on his head.

But what did Vernon matter? As far as he was concerned, the Dursley's weren't what they said the were. Normal people don't lock children in cupboards or never buy them anything.

* * *

Petunia Dursley's mind floated elsewhere as she mechanically sliced her carrots. The only thing disturbing the tranquil was a young black-haired boy sitting on the marble counter top, innocently kicking his legs back and forth.

That was her four-year old nephew. Harrison Sirius Potter-Black.

Petunia had legally changed his name to Harrison Sirius Black, because if she was going to have to keep the boy, then the name 'Potter,' wasn't going to be uttered in her house.

Right now she was making him watch how to properly cook so that when he was old enough, he could take over the kitchen so she could focus her attention on gardening.

After all, Hattie Parker the nosy blonde woman across the street had won the gardening competition three years in a row, and Petunia wanted to put that arrogant _girl_ back in her place.

The small sounds of Harry's irregular humming brought Petunia's thoughts back to him. His voice was nice with a certain childish ring to it. Pleasant – if she dared to think it.

The boy was left on her doorstep three years ago, wrapped up tight in an emerald green bundle accompanied with only a short note.

Petunia could recall the letter word for word, as she had imprinted it in her mind from reading it so many times. At first she wanted to burn the note on impulse, but instead decided to keep and lock it in her beauty box if legal problems should make themselves known.

_Dear Petunia, _

_Do you remember me, Tuney? Your sister Lily? I know we haven't been the best of siblings but I really need your help. _

_A year ago I bore twins, Petunia. Blaine James and Harrison Sirius. But due to unforeseen circumstances I could only keep one, and the chosen one was Blaine - he even has your hair! _

_Harry is a wonderful child Tuney! He can help around the house and you can nurture Harry until he is of age, like another son. _

_You are the only one I can truly trust Petunia. Back where I am, everyone is under scrutiny and you don't know who will turn their backs. Where you are, Harry can live a better life. He would learn integrity and kindness, and the joys of helping others. _

_Please Tuney, I'm truly desperate. _

_Love, _

_Lily_

How dare her sister leave just a _note_? Even still, she had no choice but to take the boy. But Petunia supposed she shouldn't have expected anything else. Lily – that attention stealer, that coward that got all their parents praise. Lily, the perfect, beautiful sister with exotic shiny red hair and brilliant green eyes. Lily, the woman that made wonderful grades and had an insanely rich man chasing after her, head over heels.

Petunia wasn't stupid. Perfect Lily bore two perfect children, one who instantly became famous at the tender age of one for doing something supposedly incredible beyond belief.

And what she get? Honey blonde hair with a few silvery strands was her best feature. Then the blue eyes which looked like the sky when it was bleak and rain loomed above.

Lily the famed healer, and Petunia the normal housewife.

But perhaps she did get the better and of the deal. She didn't have to watch for her life at every turn. Terrorists weren't interested in her, and despite her husband's large size, he cared for her with a sort of softness one doesn't usually associate with the man.

Deep in her heart she had a sort of pity for poor Harry. Another helpless victim of Lily, and he was just a child as well.

When the boy first appeared on her doorstep, she and Vernon were afraid of the magic he would someday wield. But Harry never had a magical outburst. Then Petunia started to wonder... perhaps the freaks abandoned him because he was normal?

"Harry, hand me an onion," she barked, starting on the last carrot. Her nephew's green eyes rose to meet hers and Petunia found the color didn't quite match Lily's green. They were different. Lily's were lighter, almost a leafy green color while Harry's were the rich deep color of sparkling emeralds.

Silently, Harry gave her the lavender vegetable and climbed back up to the counter, using the black drawer knobs as a purchase for his feet.

But Harry wasn't all that blameless. Sure he acted innocent, following instructions and answering politely, but he was a naughty boy.

In the morning, Petunia would always find a cookie or two missing from the cookie jar, or bag of chips gone from the pantry. She knew it was him because Petunia was a light sleeper and could tell if her son or husband had gone down. Harry lived in a cupboard under the stairs, so if he wanted to sneak something from the kitchen she wouldn't have been able to hear.

Harry had needed to know punishment, so every time she found something missing he would get a smack on his bottom. Vernon approved of course.

But her nephew had 'solved' the problem… or tried to at least. Harry had stuffed his underwear full of crinkled newspapers to dull the sting of the smack. But his butt bulged, and Petunia quickly found out and put a stop to it. Vernon actually liked the boy a little more after that, saying that some of the 'Dursley wonders' had worked on him, making him more clever.

Petunia hadn't smacked him again, but had resorted to higher measures. She knew it was a bit cruel but she had to teach him a lesson. Every time since then, if he did something wrong Petunia would put a small piece of Jalapeño pepper in his mouth and clamp her hand over his lips so he couldn't spit it out.

Petunia paused to stir the soup, adding in the chopped vegetables with gusto. "See boy?" Harry nodded, rich black hair lying neatly on his head, not flopping all over place like his father's.

She had never lied to Harry about his parents. He knew that his parents had abandoned him in favor of his brother. Petunia made that clear from the start, but never brought it up when she was scolding him. Especially because he would get so upset about it. No he wouldn't cry, but rather sit in dark corners and brood, throwing her glances that made _Petunia_ want to break-down from the sheer sadness in them.

She wasn't that mean.

* * *

Harry sat on the plush couch next to his cousin Dudley, watching some action packed cartoon. He and his cousin had a mutual agreement. Stay out of my business and I'll stay out of yours. Dudley wouldn't tell his parents when he caught him taking a pound to two from Uncle Vernon's stash, and Harry wouldn't tattletale when he saw Dudley watching teenage shows.

Despite Harry being only four, and Dudley being five, they were quite mature about some things.

By all means they didn't like each other. They hardly talked.

Dudley's stomach growled and his cheeks tinged pink. Harry offered him a cookie that he had taken from Petunia's jar, and his cousin took it with a look of thanks before stuffing his face.

Harry guessed that he should be thankful that his cousin hadn't taken a fancy into beating him up like he did with some of the neighbors. But why should he be thankful? He was an extra after all, a mistake that couldn't fit with his real parents' normal life. He often wondered what his twin brother was like. Harry had seen a picture that his real mother had sent Petunia for Christmas a few years ago.

His mother was beautiful. Red hair and green eyes like his with some freckles. James Potter, his father had unremarkable hazel eyes and wild black hair with circular glasses.

Harry was glad he didn't need glasses. He thought he would look ugly with them.

Blaine his younger twin by only mere minutes looked entirely different. He had wild hair the color of Petunia's with bright hazel eyes and round glasses. He was only around a year old, around the same age Harry was when he was abandoned.

They all looked utterly happy. Harry had tried to imagine himself in the picture with his family, but he just didn't fit. He tried to see himself perched on his mother's supple lap, but could only think of Blaine. He tried to imagine his father fondly ruffling his hair like Uncle Vernon did Dudley's, but Harry only saw Blaine.

His parents never came to visit him. Never. He couldn't even remember them at all, just a flash of green light. Harry knew he had a godfather by the name of Sirius Black, but since he was living with the Dursley's, he could only assume that his godfather didn't want him either.

Harry saw Dudley eye the other cookie in his bag greedily, but his cousin didn't dare take it in fear of the mutual agreement breaking.

Harry opened the bag and gave it to Dudley before getting up from the couch to rest in his cupboard. He didn't like all those sprinkles anyway; they made his stomach turn if he ate too many.

Petunia should make more chocolate chip ones.

* * *

Today was Dudley's sixth birthday. The official party though was being held on the weekend, so more of Dudley's friends would be able to come. But never the less, Aunt Marge was here.

Harry didn't like Aunt Marge. She was as big as Vernon with twice the personality. When Aunt Marge was around, Harry made sure to make himself scarce by locking himself in the cupboard. She didn't seem to notice he wasn't there, and Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon didn't comment on it.

But today he found himself seated at the round dining table. Dudley had begged him with his watery blue eyes - seems like he was half scared of Aunt Marge and her Bulldogs as he was.

Sure Aunt Marge got Dudley presents, loads of them actually. But something about her personality was just off-putting and the only person who didn't seem to notice was Uncle Vernon.

Glasses and silverware clinked together, but Harry couldn't help but be intimidated by the huge amount of food placed in front of him. He made sure to avoid the dangerously unhealthy food and stick to the healthier parts generously added to his and Dudley's plate by Aunt Petunia.

"So Dudley," Aunt Marge started, shoveling a piece of pork into her mouth, "You start first grade this year?"

His cousin's lips easily parted into a large smile, "Yeah!" Dudley puffed his chest in pride while Uncle Vernon patted his shoulder fondly with a force that could have knocked Harry down.

"Well," She wiped her brightly painted lips off with a napkin, "My Duddy is growing into a man!" Aunt Marge chuckled, "How about I give you a hint on that special present I've been dying to give you?" A heavy lid winked at Dudley.

Dudley's watery blue eyes sparkled, "Yes _please_." Harry refrained from rolling his eyes. Using the "I'm just a small innocent boy," tactic was his thing. Dudley was never, ever polite. Actually he was quite bad at it.

Harry wondered if Dudley was just stealing his strategies because he thought they worked, or if Harry was somehow unknowingly influencing him.

"Oh Dudley," Aunt Marge crooned while Aunt Petunia's eyes bulged out, disbelieving, "You are so polite! How could I refuse an angel's request?" Harry put the spoon to his mouth to cover the large smile on his face. The only people who would ever willingly call Dudley an 'angel' were in this room right now, and not including himself.

Neither would Uncle Vernon if he thought about it. Angels weren't manly enough.

A thought struck him. Dudley could be the Angel of Bullies! Bullies would pray to him, asking the best way to beat up children half their age. Perhaps wishing to him the ability to not get caught, and keeping the victim's mouth quiet.

Dudley shot him a quick sneaky smile that Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon caught, "Your too kind Auntie," Definitely stealing his tactics.

For some reason this made his blood boil.

Aunt Marge put a hand to her forehead and Harry noted the elaborately painted fake nails that curled inwards slightly like a hawks. "Where did you learn such gracious manners? Surely Petunia and Vernon...?" She trailed, waiting for her nephew to nod enthusiastically so she could have a chance to praise her brother and her sister-in-law for their incredible parenting skills.

"Oh," Dudley smirked a bit, "It was Harry." Great. All the attention was on him.

But he had to admit, the pairs of widening of eyes was hilarious.

"The boy...?" Aunt Marge said awkwardly before her gaze became scrutinizing. "Harry is it?"

"Yes ma'am," He looked at her dead straight in the eyes as shifty, nervous behavior never gets anyone anywhere.

She gave a grunt of approval, "Vernon, Petunia, you not only have raised one fine boy, but brought out a Dursley from one of bad blood. No offense Petunia, but your sister was a bad egg - they turn up in the best of families, and that drunkard James Potter. I don't think anyone could have raised them better!" Aunt Marge continued to sing them praises, all while insulting his parents and flattering him, a feat that Harry hadn't previously believed possible.

"-But Dudley!" Aunt Marge punctuated by stabbing her fork in the air, "Oh my, I just can't hold it any longer! I must tell you boy!" Aunt Marge left the table to fetch the present.

His cousin had a large smile carved on his face that just reeked of accomplishment. Aunt Petunia leaned in, to prevent Marge from accidentally hearing anything. This was quite impossible in Harry's mind, because she was just so large, that someone had to notice if she was there or not. And she was so big, that she couldn't hide around the corners to eavesdrop properly like he did sometimes.

Aunt Petunia's eyes narrowed at Dudley, "You're acting different tonight," she said slowly as if tasting every word that spilled from her lips.

Dudley nodded enthusiastically, "Harry taught me that if you were nice to people, they'll do what you want," Harry grimaced a little. His latest scheme had back-fired... somewhat at least.

Harry had wanted Dudley to let him borrow one of his action figures, not because he wanted to play, but because of the shiny whatsit hanging from its neck. Harry liked shiny things. Dudley wouldn't have noticed anyway, he hardly even played with it. But his cousin was unusually territorial of his toys, and wouldn't lend it without a life-or-death reason. But Harry was sneaky. He told Dudley that he would impart a great knowledge to him if he did give him the toy. Dudley had reluctantly agreed - because of course, it wasn't sweets after all. Harry said that if Dudley was nice to people then they'll be nice back.

It wasn't the newest concept out there, but Dudley was absolutely stunned. Apparently his Aunt and Uncle couldn't find it within themselves to chide or scold Dudley like they did to him.

"Oh Dudley," his Aunt sighed, exasperated at Harry yet delighted for Dudley, "Just keep it up. You've been a very good boy; I'll get you an extra present!"

Aunt Marge barged around the corner. She tried to look nonchalant but lips quirked oddly, like she was holding in an enormous smile. Both of her hands were behind her back but the ends of a huge neon green present were prodding out around her.

White blonde curls bounced as Aunt Marge eagerly set the present on the floor, beckoning Dudley to open it right there.

Aunt Petunia's lips pursed dangerously, like she was trying not to berate her sister-in-law for interrupting the dinner she took hours to prepare.

Harry leaned in his chair, not willing to get down on the ground. Dudley ripped the wrapping paper off in chunks, tossing it to the side. A small noise came from inside and Dudley tore the paper even more frantically.

A puppy. It was a small squat brown and white dog with liquid eyes. When Dudley pet him, it yipped happily, staring at his cousin with inconceivable loyalty.

Dudley laughed as the small dog jumped on him, panting heavily and wagging it's short tail like his life depended on it.

Aunt Marge, obviously pleased, decided to detail. "A fine one, he is. A friend of mine who breeds Pit Bulls gave me a discount for a pup in her newest litter if I wanted to buy one. Of course I stopped by to look, as it would have been impolite otherwise, but once I spotted this little one, I simply knew that Dudley would fall in love with him!"

Dudley was too busy playing with the dog to thank her. Or really even listen to her. Harry felt the green head of envy rear itself in the pit of his stomach. He wanted a dog.

Then it was Harry decided, if he wanted a dog, he would get a dog. And Aunt Marge was the ticket.

"He's nameless you know," Aunt Marge hinted. Dudley got the hint.

His cousin's lips pressed together, and his watery blue eyes became darker as he concentrated. "I don't know what to name him, though. Harry?" He asked, begging Harry again with those eyes.

Hm. Not falling for those ever again. Though a small part of him didn't want Dudley to name him something stupid like "Bob." After all, Harry did like naming things.

"Do you want unique or traditional?" Harry pressed, while Dudley gave him a blank look. He figured this needed more explaining. "Do you want a name like 'Killer' or something from mythology like 'Ares'?" He questioned.

Aunt Marge gave him a huge smile, and Harry grinned a little. Closer.

"Unique," Dudley said immediately, surprising everybody in the room, even Harry. Wasn't Dudley supposed to strive to be normal like his parents?

"I don't want help anymore," Dudley said proudly cutting off Harry's train of names spouting in his head. He caught himself before he could move to the floor and strangle Dudley… if he could get his small hands around that fat neck. Dudley asked for help, and now he _doesn't want it_?

Harry's mind boiled and simmered as he watched Dudley pause for a dramatic effect. "I'll name him Ares!"

* * *

Lily's eyes scanned their home in Godric's Hollow. It was comfortable and large enough for her children to happily run around in without needing to go outside.

She had four children. Lily knew she was young – especially for _four_, but they made her so happy she felt she could float away any minute.

Though sadly, she only saw three of them on a daily basis.

Harry, her sweet lovely Harry was living with her dreadful sister Petunia. It had been James's idea after the Sirius fiasco, an idea that she didn't particularly agree with as much as she once had.

Sirius had made Harry his heir, since James wanted Blaine, the younger of the twins, to become the Potter heir. James had felt that since Blaine would be fighting to the death against Voldemort – that damnable prophecy – that the Potter magic would make Blaine safer, since it would increase his magic.

Lily honestly had no problem with that, though she could imagine Harry becoming angry when he was older. But it was better to have a living brother than to be the heir of riches wasn't it? Harry wouldn't have been poor either, a huge vault would be set up for just for him and he could buy anything he wanted.

But the jealousy problem was quickly solved, since Sirius didn't intend to have an heir of his own – rather he would stay a womanizer all his life. Sirius had made Harry his heir.

Lily was pleased. The Black vaults were larger, older and had more money than the Potter ones did, but she didn't love her husband any less because of it. Harry would have his brother _and_ the money he deserved, if not more. It was the perfect solution.

Though back then she would have admitted that Harry having access to those dark artifacts and tomes had sent chills up her spine.

But then Sirius went to Azkaban. James was depressed for months afterwards before he suddenly changed and impulsively sent Harry away to her sister. He had said that each heir ritual was different, pertaining to the family. The Black family was wicked. James had gotten it in his head that the ritual was changing Harry into a dark wizard.

Lily thought otherwise. Heir rituals couldn't do that, it just made the person able to inherit fortunes left behind. She had even researched it – obsessively.

Her Harry was still the same. If he would turn dark, it would be at his own accord. But Dumbledore convinced her that it was too late and Harry would already be attached to his new guardians. It didn't help that none of the family could leave the Fidelius protected house for their own safety, even though Lord Voldemort had already been vanquished by Blaine. Many hardcore Death Eaters like Bellatrix Lestrange appear to have just vanished off the face of the Earth, and would be very willing to seek out Blaine for revenge.

Going to visit her son would be a terrible risk. Dumbledore had already scolded them for dropping off their son at the Dursleys.

"Mummm," Blaine whined, tugging on her skirt, "Pleeeeaaase can I have a brownie?" Lily smiled affectionately. Who was she to deny her son a simple brownie?

"Here, pumpkin," Lily handed her son the sweet with a wonderful smile and he beamed.

"Thanks!" He ruffled his blond hair, making it messier like James did, before running off to Merlin knows where.

She could say it again and again without tiring. She loved her children.

Other than Harry and Blaine, there was Dahlia and Primrose – twin girls who were born shortly after Sirius went to jail.

Lily wondered why she had two sets of twins. True her mother was a twin, but still. Perhaps magic had a part in this?

Dahlia had dark shaggy hair and hazel eyes like her father and Blaine, while Primrose had red hair a shade darker than hers – with mint green eyes, a shade _lighter_ than hers.

Dahlia liked to run around, and had more energy than even Blaine, but Primrose liked to play with dolls and sleep with Teddy, her stuffed bear.

Harry had liked to sleep. He almost never cried, but would get grouchy when he didn't sleep _at least_ half the day. If he wasn't sleeping, he was drawing on the walls or trying to eat some of the plants around the house.

Harry had green eyes, intenser and darker than hers. Neat black hair sat orderly upon his head and he always had something shiny in his small hands. Always.

Lily sighed. She missed her Harry.

* * *

Eh, if you hadn't caught it already Harry os five years old by the end of this chapter. Next one is the first day of school :)

_**REVIEW. Constructive critism, thoughts, ideas, remarks... **_


	2. Fight Me

**Title: _Little Hellion  
_**

**Chapter Title: _Fight Me  
_**

**Chapter Quote:** _"Mind over Matter" _

A/N: Some people have asked why James was so squeamish about Sirius using a Dark Spell to kill six Death Eaters. In the previous chapter, it was mentioned that the six Death Eaters had burst into flames and started ripping their limbs off... and one of them was Wormtail. So not only was the curse very gruesome, but James had to watch his very good, 'innocent,' friend torture himself and that Sirius didn't hold any remorse about it... it wouldn't have left James in a very good state of mind. And then there's the whole _"There could have been another way,"_ thing probably floating around in his mind.

* * *

Harry laid on his small, worn mattress, absentmindedly petting his Rottweiler 'Slade'. He had slipped his way into Marge's good graces and gotten the dog on his sixth birthday. Slade was the most vicious and aggressive pup of the litter, at least Aunt Marge had said so. Plus his tail was long instead of a short nub like some were - and Harry found he liked the long wagging tails more than the short ones... namely a certain Pit bull. Dudley was fine with him, but Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia used Slade against him, threatening to put him in an animal shelter if Harry didn't do what they wanted.

So of course Harry did, and his chores doubled. But Harry did them without complaint as Slade was his only friend and Harry never wanted to let him go.

It was also funny how much Slade scared his relatives. He howled in the moon every once in a while and would snarl at Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon whenever he saw them.

Slade and Ares followed the same agreement and Harry and Dudley did. They didn't bark at each other or such nonsense, but Slade would get very frightening if Dudley started getting on Harry's nerves.

Slade was his protector, as Harry didn't have his father to keep the troubles away.

"Harry?" Dudley squeaked as he opened Harry's cupboard, a leash in hand.

Slade glared at him, changing his relaxed demeanor into one ready to lunge, "What?"

Dudley glanced uneasily at Slade, "Time for you to walk the dogs." Ah yes. After about two weeks of having Ares, Dudley had pretty much given up on him like an abandoned toy. Dudley stopped walking and training Ares once he learned it would take months to teach.

His cousin still loved his dog, but all of the hard work and responsibility fell on Harry's shoulders. So unfair.

Harry leashed Slade, and the dog got up obediently and followed him outside. Harry felt that Slade didn't really need a leash, but his Aunt and Uncle had insisted.

While he walked around the neighborhood walking Ares and Slade he got some odd looks. After all, Rottweilers and Pit Bulls had some pretty heavy stereotypes and Harry was just six. But right now Harry paid them no head as he was pondering different subjects... tomorrow was the first day of primary school and he'd be in the same year as Dudley.

* * *

He and Dudley were in the backseats of Uncle Vernon's car. His cousin prodded him with his foot occasionally, either trying to rile him up so Uncle Vernon would shout at him or to relieve nervous energy.

Uncle Vernon parked in the parking lot, got out, and opened Dudley's door like a butler. Harry's backpack was filled with everything he needed... they were new which surprised him, but didn't have an fancy decorations like Dudley's did. His crayon box had less colors than Dudley, who got the superpack.

Harry followed his Uncle to the school. It was an unremarkable brick building with lots of windows.

As he trailed behind, Harry memorized the way to his class, making sure he would never get lost. It was a strange fear he had made, he was afraid that someone would steal him away or he'd never find 'home' again. It was even more prominent now that he was somewhere new and Slade wasn't here to protect him.

He didn't realize how much he had come to depend on his dog until he was here, where Slade wasn't allowed.

"Hello, I am Miss Rose. You must be Dudley and Harrison!" A tall, blonde woman with slightly pink cheeks and long lashes peered at them excitedly. His new teacher seemed nice, but something about her kindness bothered Harry who wasn't used to it.

"Tell me Harrison, do you prefer to be Harrison or Harry?" Miss Rose inquired and looked at him straight in the eye. "Harry ma'am."

She gave him a smile, "Very well then. Harry, Dudley, do you want to get started on your drawings? We're doing that right now." She led them in, but not before Vernon gave Dudley a hug and a few parting words.

Each one of the wooden desks had a name tag on it, and Harry was ecstatic that his wasn't anywhere near Dudley's. "Harrison Black" was printed next to "Amanda DuPre" and "Christopher Yates".

Harry honestly didn't think he had a chance at making friends... nor did he really want them. He had seen kids around his block with their friends. True they were fun and a shoulder to cry on, but some were needy and expected you to do what they wanted.

But for the sake of being normal, Harry would try to be pleasant.

He sat in his chair and brought out his stuff. Amanda looked over at him with a smile. Amanda had mousy brown hair and unremarkable brown eyes that held a kind of everlasting joy. She was one of those 'good' people.

"I'm Mandy!" She held her hand out to him, and he took it with a smile, "Harry".

Amanda continued to jabber about how_ absolutely fantastic _this year would be as she drew a unicorn. "...And Science is my favorite subject! What's yours?" Harry got out of his trance of smiling and nodding to answer the question, "English. But I hate math." Amanda made a face at him, "Math is awesome! But so is English, I can't believe you don't like math. Do you know your Times Tables?"

"Most. Up to ten," Harry answered easily, not bothering to mention how he sometimes forgot the nines.

"Cool! I know all the way up to twelve. My mum was a teacher and she made me study _them all_. It's really tough, and I know most people here don't even know the basic ones." Harry made a humming sound, going back to drawing his sword.

Harry really didn't know why he liked drawing so much. To him it was drawing what he felt, and creating something from his imagination onto paper. It gave his dreams reality, and helped overcome nightmares by showing what the bad thing looked like. After all people were afraid of the unknown, weren't they? Drawing gave him something to know so he wouldn't be as afraid of it.

Christopher was making nonsensical doodles on his paper, and looked up at Harry and Amanda every so often. He had glasses, but it made him look good.

"Oh Harry, that's wonderful! Why don't you draw something else though, like a flower or a butterfly?" Miss Rose appeared behind him, giving Harry a scare.

Stupid teachers. Why can't they just stick their noses back from where they came? He didn't want to draw a butterfly.

"Okay," Harry sighed resignedly, getting ready to draw a mechanical robot butterfly with explosives. Real butterflies were girly.

Once he finished his masterpiece, Christopher looked over before giving him a smirk, "You're good at not follow directions."

Harry offered him a sly look, "It's a butterfly, isn't it?"

Amanda frowned at him,"Butterflies don't look like that," she raised her hand in the air. "Miss Rose! Miss Rose! Look at Harry's butterfly!" The whole class stopped what they were doing to watch him. Dudley and his gang of friends were snickering at him.

Harry felt his ears burn.

"My, my, Harry! What is that?" Miss Rose looked over the picture, "Are those explosives? Harry we don't draw things like that in here." Christopher was hiding his laughing behind his hand, but his face was bright pink.

Dudley and his friends stopped their snickering and began to feverishly erase their drawings.

* * *

Vernon rounded on him, "Boy! Did you know that I got a call from your teacher? She said that you were drawing inappropriate things in class!" His Uncle fumed and Harry flinched back while Dudley looked like he was egging his Father on.

"Miss Rose told me to draw a butterfly, Uncle Vernon! So I just added explosives on it so it looked cooler," Harry tried to keep the fear out of his voice. Uncle Vernon looked very scary when his face was that shade of purple.

Vernon's anger looked like it was residing, "Explosives, only?" He questioned carefully before turning a bit red, "Alright Boy, go to your cupboard... I had thought that when your teacher said inappropriate things she meant... oh go to your cupboard Boy, and no dinner!" His Uncle stalked away, throwing almost scandalized glances at the phone.

* * *

Harry rubbed a light bruise on his arm. Ever since school started all those years ago, Dudley had progressively gotten worse. The mutual agreement had broken long ago, and now his cousin tattled on him as much as he could, going so far as to make things up.

Vernon had started beating him for embarrassing the family. His teachers blamed everything Dudley did on him, because Dudley was _such_ a good boy. An angel.

The only thing that he could be kind of proud of was how Dudley wouldn't hit him. Despite Dudley being probably... three times larger than him, Harry could take his cousin. They physically fought almost every week, and Harry built a very strong tolerance for pain, plus he won sometimes. Since Harry was lighter than Dudley, he had to find a way beat him, so eventually he discovered the wonders of pressure points. It was hard to reach them beneath all that fat, but he got stronger, so he could do it.

Harry had even stopped indulging his sweet tooth, and rather greedily started taking meats and such. Petunia didn't know this since... what ten year old would take healthy food over sweets?

He mowed the lawn with vigor, and drank energy drinks. It was a good work out, and he didn't necessarily _like_ it, but Dudley was only going to get stronger with his heaviness and Harry couldn't get left behind. So through all the hard work he shoved the little complaining voice into the back of his mind.

He was _independent_. He wasn't going to rely on _anyone_. If no one could protect him against Vernon and Dudley then he had to himself, and God knows that a little, weak, scrawny boy can't do that.

Actually, Slade would help him. But the overeager dog would probably be put down for his _successful_ efforts, and Harry really didn't want that.

But he had to admit that he was kind of glad that Ares turned out to be a little dog full of happiness that couldn't hurt a fly. He didn't need _another_ bully.

"Hey, Dudley! Look, it's your cousin!" Piers Polkiss growled and the rest of Dudley's gang got into position, exempting Dudley who looked a bit nervous. Christopher Yates was part of the gang, and Harry considered him as his first betrayal. They were friends at first, until Dudley started badmouthing Harry and Christopher, who didn't want to be the "Freak's friend," promptly joined up with Dudley.

"Oh look," Harry sighed in exasperation, "It's my lovely cousin and his pet rats." There were... six of them. Harry couldn't take on six.

Dudley frowned and his fat wobbled unpleasantly. "It's just Harry. Let's go." Dudley made a move to leave, as if he wasn't worth Harry's time, but Piers pulled him back.

"Come on, Big D! Let's teach your cousin why he can't walk around like he's royalty." Piers ran up to Harry, and pulled his hands behind his back. Piers's hands felt greasy and Harry felt this urge to get them off him.

Harry easily twisted his hands out of Pier's grip, and punched his face, watching the blood drip out of his nose and his scrawny body fall down in shock. Harry was actually amazed at his strength. But he had only fought Dudley before and to an extent, Vernon... so why shouldn't a little rat be easy to knock out?

Gasps were heard from the rest of the fifth grade, who watched eagerly.

_"Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight! Fig-"_

Dudley's face paled and Harry could clearly see Dudley's inner dilemma. His cousin didn't want to look like a wimp in front of his classmates, but he didn't want to actually be seen losing to Harry.

The rest of the gang had backed away, not offering any help. They were only there for the taunts and jabs, and couldn't muster up any courage to actually beat anyone up. Piers and Dudley did all the work - Piers would hold the victim's hands behind their back while Dudley would punch the unlucky fellow with heavy fists.

Amanda looked up from a book with fright on her face. Second betrayal. After Christopher had abandoned him, Amanda had started distancing herself. Eventually one day Harry saw a bruise on her hand and knew right away it was Dudley. Harry offered to help her but she said that she didn't want to be associated with a Freak, in front of the whole school none the less.

Aft first Harry thought it was Dudley's intimidation, but soon she started to taunt him without any prompting from his cousin. As a passive aggressive revenge he beat her in studies, outshining her in every possible academic way he could to belittle her reputation as the smartest kid in the year.

As her revenge she thought it wise to slap him in front of the whole school, but he caught her hand midway, embarrassing her.

Amanda's little smirk was never again directed to him.

_"Fight! Fight! Fight! Figh-" _

"ALRIGHT!" Dudley yelled, before stomping up to him with an arrogant smirk. He had made his choice.

A fist came his way but he dodged, and Harry threw his punch at his cousin's nose, throwing as much momentum and weight into it as he could. It would be hard to recover from if he missed.

A sickening crunch and a trickle of blood dripped onto the gravel, and Harry felt the wonderful feeling of having Dudley's head thrown back.

The tendrils of sadistic glee wrapped around his heart, and his lips couldn't help but give a ghost of a smirk. It was like a high, with all the adrenaline rushing and Harry almost didn't want to stop. The crimson liquid on the ground seeped into the cracks of the cement, and Harry watched it with content.

Whenever Harry fought Dudley, his head had never been so clear. It was like all the worries and self-pity vanished from him. It was so much more gratifying than having to slyly attack his cousin through passive-aggressive means. It truly felt like getting the full reward: physically wounding Dudley as his cousin did to him.

A pained moan came from Dudley as he held his nose, tears glossing his eyes before an angry spark lit them up. His cousin never learns.

Making this quick, Harry delivered the dirtiest trick he knew.

He kicked Dudley in the crotch, aiming for the goal of no more little Dursleys coming into existence.

Dudley was down and whimpering. No one clapped for him, but Harry bathed in the shocked looks directed at him. He beat his cousin in less than thirty seconds and there wasn't a single bruise on him.

Well... his classmates didn't know what went on in #4 Privet Drive.

"MR. BLACK!" Mrs. Hage stormed onto the black top, impossibly red in the face.

Uh oh.

* * *

**A/N: Hahahah. Reviews are welcome :)**

**So i'm trying to get to the "St. Brutus" part faster because Harry's childhood was honestly bad, and many people probably have the imagination to figure out that it wasn't "normal" by any standards. He was beaten, blamed, bullied... _enslaved_ really, and nothing else noteworthy happens (other that of course). It would be boring if I detailed over every little homework assignment and bullying incident.**

**Anyway... review. And if you happen to not like something, it would be more productive if you detailed _why_.**

**kthxbai**


	3. The Round Table

**Title: _Little Hellion  
_**

**Chapter Title: _The Round Table  
_**

**Chapter Quote:** _"Your heart is my piñata." ~ Chuck Palahniuk_

_

* * *

_

They were seated around a large round table, everyone in formal clothing and wore an array of different expressions. Some sad, some happy, some confused, some mad... and then there was Vernon whose face was an unhealthy blotchy purple color, clearly the most enraged Harry had ever seen him.

His relatives were notified faster than Harry could blink, and had been outside the school within minutes. Petunia had taken Dudley to the doctor's, but Vernon stayed at the school to help determine Harry's punishment.

At the table there was the Principle, an alabaster man that always wore a dark suit and the same blue tie. In all Harry's time, he had never seen the man smile nor frown but rather he expressed everything with his eyes and soft monotone voice.

Harry's current teacher, Mrs. Hage was frowning unhappily after the red in her face had disappeared. She liked him for his brilliance, but obviously listened to the rumors of Harry's troubled nature. The only reason she would plead for him to stay - if she pleaded - was because of his unequivocal grades and the likelihood of Harry becoming a genius and somehow reminiscing her wonderful teaching skills in his autobiography.

There were many more people, but Harry didn't know most of them. But there was one single girl - a witness to the fight that broke out between Dudley and him. Ironically, it was Amanda, and her eyes didn't have that naive warmth but rather an upsetness.

Harry instantly became infuriated when he noticed her puffy red eyes and flushed cheeks. What is she crying about? Nothing had happened to her! Some adults were looking at her in pity but didn't they know that Amanda was just a crying girl that hides in the bathroom for an hour when she gets less than a hundred percent on a quiz?

Oh God, he just hoped that she wasn't upset about Dudley.

If he could just quickly charm his way into the hearts of these people, shed maybe a crocodile tear or two and keep his glossy eyes down in submissiveness the adults may let him have a second chance.

But if he were honest with himself, he didn't particularly care about getting expelled or not. He didn't have any friends, the teachers only liked him for his choice to be better than Amanda, and frankly he was getting tired of the jabs, taunts and teasing laughs. A boy like him can only take so much before he become a hollow shell. He had noticed his lethargy in getting out of bed and his heavy eyes. His body slumped forward and tears prickled his eyes when he realized how terrible his life was.

Self-pity was frowned upon, but inevitable. He was abandoned in favor of his twin brother, Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia enslaved him, Dudley hurt him and his peers jeered and laughed for being a 'Freak' with no friends.

Harry would take any chance to get away with his dog. He had an uncanny amount of self-prevention and could feel himself breaking. Even his motto... his mantra of, _"You are yourself,"_ soon turned meaningless when his will became worn.

He was weak and he was strong. Harry could take the beatings but the taunts and quiet snickers whenever he passed by didn't fall upon deaf ears. He absorbed them, hoping they would soon get lost in the recesses of his mind but he saw them in the shadows of reality, appearing in every chair and lounging on every bed.

Love and friendship wasn't known to him. Envy burned his eyes when he saw caring hugs and compassionate stares. Nothing of that sort was ever directed at him and it made his heart wrench and the corners of mouth quirk down.

Yes he could beat Dudley. Yes he could outsmart Aunt Petunia. Yes he could play Aunt Marge. Yes he could walk faster than Vernon can run. But No, he couldn't take it when he was emotionally tortured.

His mind was everything. It helped him think, to scheme, to dream, to live. But when that was compromised he fell apart.

"Mr. Black," The Principle stated, looking deep within his eyes to find the truths of his soul.

"Yes sir?" Harry inquired softly, casting his eyes down, secure from his gaze.

Suddenly it wasn't the teachers that worried him but Vernon as his face turned a darker shade of purple. The physical pain that Vernon dealt, he was used to. But it still sent him into panic. Harry wasn't a masochist after all.

It had always been fists. slaps, hits, punches, and just for embarrassing the family. But did anyone ever think to wonder that it was Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon's fault all the neighbors thought it okay to treat him like trash? They started the spread of rumors, they raised Dudley like a pompous prince and his cousin learned by their example of treating him.

You are better than Harry. Only Freaks live in cupboards. Hit your cousin, he deserves it. Tell your friends to taunt him. Harry was abandoned, that's why he's here. Go play outside, Harry can do your chores.

What chores?

Dudley didn't have chores. This was just a sly way to pile more onto Harry who had never known freedom.

"Could you give me a recount of what happened today at recess?" Harry grimaced inwardly. Everyone knew he was bullied, even the principal, but no one did anything about it.

Harry almost snarkily replied, "What do you think, Jackass?" But caught himself before he could. Even if they did know he was bullied, Harry didn't want to hurt his pride by telling everyone that he was getting picked on.

"Well... I was sitting on the bench, reading for class," He softly emphasized, noting Mrs. Hage's ghost of a smile.

The Principal ushered him on with a gesture of his hand, "Go on."

"My cousin and his friends came and they thought it would be a fun idea to beat me up. Piers came behind me, to restrain me but I turned around and punched him to try and get away. Dudley then came forward, to avenge Piers, and tried to punch me but missed, and I punched him."

The Principal hummed thoughtfully, while the rest of the table gasped and Vernon muttered "Blasphemy."

"Miss DuPre, what is your recount of today?" Amanda swallowed thickly and a realization struck Harry like lightning. She was going to lie. Would she really go so far as to bear a false witness, just so he would be expelled, and she the number one student?

"Well... I was sitting under a tree, also reading for class. Harrison started goading Dudley, telling him that he was fat baby. Dudley tried to punch him, but Harrison _evaded_ him and broke his nose." She choked out, stressing the applied use of one of this week's spelling words.

Before anyone could agree or protest Harry came to his own defense, "False. I never called Dudley fat, and Piers started it by pressuring him into punching me."

A tall, portly woman who was dressed in soft fabrics gasped in offense, putting her hand to her mouth in a 'lady-like' manner. By what Harry remembered, she was Piers's mother. "My son would never do such a thing!"

Her statement was met by a murmur of agreement from around the table. This time Harry did not wish to keep quiet. He deserved justice.

"Than you obviously don't know your son Mrs. Polkiss," Harry put as much venom and resentment in his voice as he could, the name 'Polkiss' tasting unpleasant in his tongue.

More gasps were heard, and Vernon stood up, his chair flying back a few feet, "Why would Dudley hit you, Boy?"

"Because you encourage it."

Vernon's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates before grinding his teeth, but before he could Harry beat him to it. "It must hurt your pride Uncle Vernon, to know a scrawny little boy like me could beat up your _big-boned_ son." His uncle growled, eyes flashing.

"Mr. Dursley, calm yourself," the voice of the Principal broke through the tension. Uncle Vernon's face paled in embarrassment, before sitting back down.

"I believe," the Principal started, "That never the less, whether Harry goaded Dudley or the other way around, they both deserve punishment." The room made a sound of disagreement, opting to support Dudley over him.

Harry crossed his arms over his chest, "It was for self-defense sir. What would you have done? Asked him to please stop then somehow getting the attention of a teacher?" Harry mocked lightly, not particularly caring that he was digging himself into a hole.

"Yes I would have Mr. Black. Violence is never the answer," The principal chided.

"Then why do we have wars if we could just talk it out? Why were guns and swords made? Why do people get murdered? Why does Mexico have Drug Cartels? Why are there pirates? Why can we feel the emotions of anger, sadness, envy and the ever popular stubbornness? Why do animals fight naturally, but it is frowned if us humans do so? Why say we should fight for justice and our rights if we clearly can't do so? When language wasn't invented yet, people couldn't fight with words so what did they fight with? Why do the Greeks enjoy watching their own people getting brutally mauled by tigers?" Harry ranted, feeling distinctly proud by the wide-eyed looks he was getting.

That's right stupid gossip mongers.

"Still, Mr. Black. It is not your place to be thinking about the reasons for violence. It was wrong of you to use your strength to hurt your cousi-"

"Even for self-defense?" Harry inquired with as much sweetness as he could.

"Mr. Black we are here to talk about your punishment. You gravelly injured another student." The Principal stated angrily and Harry was almost shocked that he broke through his calm exterior.

He supposed that he wouldn't go with the plan to make his Principal as angry as he could, so he would attack Harry in violence, proving Harry's point.

"Yessir," He slurred unhappily.

"You have a choice. Transfer to a school called St. Brutus's for a fresh start, or have a two hour long detention every day from the start of sixth grade to the end of it." School was out in two days so it would pointless if he were to get detention for the rest of this year.

Uncle Vernon regained his pallor, "Boy, if you choose to go to St. Brutus's I will pay for it. You will also bring that dog of yours since you are allowed a pet. It will be like college, you would get a dorm and roommate." Vernon offered, making Harry's eyes go wide. Independence offered on a silver platter.

Something was amiss. Vernon was trying to persuade him to go to a boarding school. Or at least Harry assumed, since what other kind of school offers dorms?

Did Vernon really want him gone that much? Won't they miss their slave?

"What is St. Brutus's?" Harry questioned, outwardly resigned.

"Here," A nameless man passes him a pamphlet.

"St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys"

_Here at St. Brutus's, we offer a wide range of classes and activities. The teachers_

_are very well educated and we have a professional doctor here at the school who runs the Nurse's Room. _

_In this fine establishment headed by Headmaster Corbin Rhys, your child is sure to succeed! _

_Many of the boys here are very nice and accommodating, and we hope _

_that you will enjoy your stay.  
_

* * *

The pamphlet made Harry feel like he was already enrolled in, and they were just explaining what the school was like. And what did it mean by 'Incurably Criminal Boys'? He wasn't a criminal by any measure!

For God's sake, he was only ten, how could they decide if he was criminal or not when he wasn't even as adult?

No wonder Vernon wanted him to go to that school so badly. Surely going to a a school like this would ruin any sort of future he may have? Really what employer would hire a guy that went to a school for 'Incurably Criminal Boys'?

But then again it was a new start. No one would know who he was, or his reputation as a friendless 'Freak'. Hell, most of the boys there probably acted the same way he did.

Harry decided that he was going to try and milk his nonexistent reputation as an obedient slave, perhaps gaining some pity. "What would you like me to do Uncle Vernon? Would you like me to go to a school for Incurably Criminal Boys?" Harry sighed sadly, adding in a slightly trembling bottom lip for effect.

Uncle Vernon flustered for a moment, and Harry inwardly smirked. He caught his Uncle between a rock and a hard place. If he didn't want him to go, Vernon couldn't force him to later because Uncle Vernon clearly wanted him to go. If Uncle Vernon told him to go, he'll be remembered as the Uncle that wanted a young boy to go to a school for criminals, meaning Uncle clearly didn't want or care for Harry.

Either way, Harry knew that he will knock out Dudley again.

Apparently Vernon didn't think as much as Harry did, "Go to the school, It will be new experience."

"Then I shall go."

* * *

**So here's giving Harry a bit more character. He can take the physical punishments but not the mental harassment :/ Poor kid. **

**Leave a Review, Loves.  
**


	4. Torture

**Warnings: Some gore and torture at the end. If you don't like that stuff it's not terribly important that you read it. **

**Title: _Little Hellion  
_**

**Chapter Title:_ Torture  
_**

**Chapter Quote:**_ "Is not this the true romantic feeling - not to desire to escape life, but to prevent life from escaping you?" ~ Tom Wolfe_

* * *

Sirius Black was miserable. He was angry, upset, hungry, cold and disgusted. The prison was in a deplorable state, and the strong dark magic saturated in the walls hummed seductively to his core. Dementors constantly drfted over to his cell to feed off his memories, plunging him into a raging tsunami of regrets and horrors.

While the Dementors were frightening, the aura of the prison was more of a threat. Dark magic wafted into his body with every breath he took, tingling his nostrils and calming his mind. It was comforting, but in the way firewhisky relaxes you - a double edged sword. Sirius felt his very being forming attachments to the magic, emptying himself of cares and passions and letting them go free to Azkaban. Insanity's spidery fingers seeped into his mind like smoke, caressing his thoughts and pulling them around like bound puppets.

He had to get out.

* * *

Primrose Lillian Potter ran a manicured hand through her hair, making sure the soft crimson waves were to perfection. Eyeliner outlined her light green eyes, soft like sea rocks.

It was her brother Blaine's birthday and everyone explicitly trusted would be attending the party. It was also Harrison's birthday, her squib brother, but the subject of Harrison was a taboo in her house. No one spoke of him but if he came up, her mother would always succumb into a depressed mood, preferring to have the next few hours to herself.

She didn't really see the point. Primrose wasn't _trying_ to be rude, but how could she care about a brother she'd never known? It wasn't fair that her parents mourned someone that has been gone for over ten years.

All she knew was that he had black hair and green eyes, a perfect combination of her mother and father. Primrose herself looked like her mother, and that included the light dashing of freckles across her nose that she liked to hide with cream. Dahlia, her twin, resembled her father. Dahlia even loved to play quidditch and run amok with the Weasley twins.

Primrose didn't see the point in quidditch. It was just a way to get yourself hurt, plus she herself wasn't that good on a broom. Personally, she liked books and trying on new clothes that Molly Weasley bought for her.

She narrowed her eyes at the rows of earrings before choosing a pair of emerald butterflies and coaxing the sharp gold ends through the healed punctures in her ears.

Tonight, Primrose was exceptionally lovely, having gone through hours of beautifying. The dress robes she had were tailored to match her tall frame and light curves that were sure to develop as she continued to grow. A detailed gold phoenix being reborn was a frozen picture on the back of her silken white robes, and matching gold flames licked the hems. She dressed in these robes to show her support for the Order of the Phoenix.

Also to perhaps catch the attention of her long-time crush, Bill Weasley.

He was suave and funny, plus he had a dangerous job as a curse breaker in Egypt. To become a curse breaker you had to not only be powerful, but knowledgeable. And every time he came home with a girl, or started flirting with Nymphadora Tonks, a spark of jealousy would ignite in her abdomen, making her frown a little.

The only person who knew of her crush was her best friend Ginny, and she thought it was funny. Dahlia knew also, but Primrose had never told her, she had eavesdropped on a conversation.

Dahlia kicked a ball passed her room, a large smile on her face. Primrose resisted the urge to scream at the stained muggle clothing. The party was in an hour and her twin hadn't gotten ready _yet_?

She sat elegantly on an armchair and picked out a second year Potions book. Primrose envied Blaine for already knowing up to third year spells and for being personally taught by Headmaster Dumbledore. She understood she wouldn't have to go around fending off Death Eaters or vanquishing Lord Voldemort for the last time, but she had the insatiable urge to be better than him.

Primrose wanted to prove to the world that she was someone, that she didn't need the crutch of her older brother to become famous.

"Rosie," Her daddy knocked on the door before opening it and peeping in. "Ready?"

Primrose gave a delicate snort and smoothed down her robes before getting up. "I've been ready for an hour."

Her dad chuckled, "Look at you! Do I need to beat off all the boys with sticks?" He joked.

She flushed, "Really dad. Let's go." Her dad offered her his arm and she took it. They walked passed a room with it's door swung open. Inside was her mother struggling to comb out all the tangles in Dahlia's hair. Her twin was gritting her teeth as a particularly tangled spot was failing to be conquered.

"I don't envy your mother," Her father mumbled and they found their way to the staircase, slowly descended down the stairs, getting some wolf whistles.

Probably from the Weasley twins.

Grabbing up her robes a bit she practically ran to Ginny, both girls laughing. "Gee, can't wait to see Blaine," Primrose teased at her friend, watching in amusement as she blushed all the way to the roots of her hair.

"Gee can't wait to see Bill," Ginny muttered mockingly. As if hearing his name, Bill looked their way and Primrose's breath caught. He looked handsomer than the last time she'd seen him.

And the fang earring he wore gave him an appeal that Primrose didn't think possible.

She practically swooned right there.

* * *

Harry grabbed a tall scented candle from the wooden cabinets in the kitchen and a small box of matches. Walking nonchalantly outside he hid inside a large bush, seeking comfort. The leaves and branches had grown, but the middle was hollow, like he was surrounded. The opening to his hideout was an area that brushed against the bricks of the house, and from the porch you could only see the side of the bush.

It was dangerous, especially in the summertime when everything was dry and extra flammable but it was his birthday. Harry stuck the candle halfway into the ground and carefully stuck the match, watching with awe as the flame jumped high before gaining control of itself. He knew it was stupid and could quite possibly lead to his death, but he wanted to do something half-way memorable for his birthday.

The rest of the summer went unusually well. Harry had expected Vernon to move to the next level in his beatings, perhaps to belts, but it never happened. Dudley and his gang avoid Harry like the plague, but that didn't stop him from developing his strength. He didn't fancy one day having big, buffy muscles like Dudley had always desired, but just being toned and strong was good for him.

Harry noticed that his looks were changing from the boyish stage to the more handsomer one. His jaw became a bit more defined, his hair a bit straighter, and his eyes more intense.

Pale skin changed as well. Now Harry had developed a healthy goldeny glow and muscles were slowly defining themselves, and suddenly he was growing taller.

But what Harry really liked was how he wasn't bearing an extreme resemblance to his father.

"Boy," Uncle Vernon called, "Get the grocery bags from the car."

"Yes sir."

A few days ago he had gotten his St. Brutus stuff. Calligraphy pens, tons of pencils, blank notebooks, more clothes and Aunt Petunia had the decency to get him a wallet. It resembled glossy black snake-skin and Harry had already put all his money in it - not that he owned that much in the first place. Well perhaps he did own quite a number, but his relatives didn't need to know that.

Harry carried in five grocery bags on each arm, two of them encasing milk jugs. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Dudley happily smacking his new Smeltings Stick around, crashing into lamps and furniture.

One look at his cousin's orange and maroon uniform sent Harry's mind into a relieved state, knowing he'd never have to wear such ugly clothing. In St. Brutus there was no clothing regulations. You could come to class half-naked if you wanted to.

But every student had to have some kind of extracurricular activity, go to the Councilor's Office twice a month and mediate everyday during Health Class.

It seemed anger issues were a common problem for the majority of the students.

The St. Brutus athletic teams were highly feared and revered by every other school in England. They were absolutely vicious and spared no mercy. It seemed that sports was a way to exert built up energy.

Harry didn't know if he wanted to do a sport or not. The only thing he was good at was fighting and drawing, and everyone in St. Brutus would be good at the former.

When he was younger he didn't want a friend. Friends back stabbed you, fought with you, cried on you, expected you to fix their problems... but now perhaps he wanted a friend. He wasn't desperate, but would carefully choose the people that he could pull close to his heart. In primary school, everyone hated him, spat on him and snickered. Getting a friend there would be impossible, but in St. Brutus, the place where the people would be as 'problematic' as him, maybe he could find that friend he longed for.

Harry wanted to laugh until his sides hurt, to go places and see movies, to know that someone would be there for him and he would be there for somebody. Slade was his only friend, but he was a dog. A very good dog, but a dog none the less. Harry wanted someone he could talk to, someone that could loathe his family along with him and sneer at their obesity. Someone that wouldn't snicker or pity him for how he was abandoned by his real parents and banished to this hell hole.

Maybe that was why he wanted to go to a school for criminals, future be damned. Dudley wouldn't be there to influence anybody's decisions, and those criminals would see things for what they were.

After all they must have done something, or upset someone to have to go to that school, right?

* * *

Bellatrix Lestrange twirled a slightly crooked wand between her long fingers, violet eyes lighting up in fanatical delight. Which curse to choose...

The three bound and gagged Longbottoms sat frightened in one of her Lord's dungeon cells. Frank, Alice and a newly eleven year-old Neville.

With a twist of her wand the gags were removed so Bella could revel in their soon-to-be scream and pleas. Frank looked up at her, hatred in his eyes and he defiantly spat on the floor.

Dolohov had picked up these little treats while they were on their way to Godric's Hollow. The Light was so stupid. Her Lord and the Inner Circle knew the secret so there was absolutely no point of the Fidelius.

The Potters thought that with the death of Peter the secret couldn't get out any longer but they severely miscalculated. The Dark Lord already knew. Peter wasn't tortured for the information like the Light had thought and the little rat wasn't dead like they thought.

In actuality, once the traitor had outlived his purpose, the Dark Lord locked him in a cell. The funny thing about the Fidelius... When the Potters put a new Fidelius Charm up with Dumbledore as the secret keeper, Peter would automatically gain the knowledge of where they are regardless.

The old keeper would get the new secret, even if he were dead... but dead people can't speak.

Bellatrix threw her head back and laughed, cold and high. The Dark would win, and everyone else would shrivel at their power.

With a slight flaring of her nostrils, she wordlessly cast a bright red curse at Frank watching with glee as he started convulsing on the floor, desperately trying not to cry out in agony. A single tear escaped Alice's eye, rolling down her pale face before disappearing under her chin. Neville's eyes were closed tightly, and his teeth clenched, not wanting to see his father being tortured.

Bella's lips pulled back in a gleeful smile as she cast another curse, slicing open Alice's front and watching the slippery organs spill out. Neville sobbed, whimpering for mercy but Bella spared him none. He was hit with the _'Imperius'_ and started slowly clawing himself to death, dragging his bitten nails down his face.

The curse on Frank was kept on him until the sparks of insanity lit up his eyes, laughing along with Bella instead of screaming. Once the curse lifted she watched as he started begging for her to put under the pain again, going as far as to pick up his wife's organs, and offering them to her as a sacrifice. When Bella gave him a practiced frown he snarled, and started to bite his son, chewing out chunks of his flesh, hoping to gain her approval.

Neville's blood flowed freely from all the wounds, the horrified look in his eyes started to die as blackness overcame his vision.

Double Killing Curses erupted out of Bellatrix's wand ending both the adult and the son's life.

With a satisfied twirl of her wand she sauntered out, swaying her hips and catching the attention of passing Death Eaters. Lucius Malfoy took one look at her pleased smile and sighed, rolling his eyes and letting a cold smirk shape his lips, "What has dear Bella done now?" his silky voice penetrated Bella's haze of pleasure.

Giving her brother-in-law a cruel smile, "I might have just tortured and killed those pesky Longbottoms Dolohov brought in."

Lucius frowned at her, molten silver eyes shining with disappointment, "I thought I had already claimed them for myself," Lucius bit back a snarl at Bella's widening smile.

"You've already claimed for revenge on all those Weasleys, dear. Let the rest of us have some fun," She purred, letting her heavy lidded eyes droop. With that she brush her shoulders with Lucius as she glided past, roaring with laughter.

* * *

**Like it? I've been updating alot this week, and it's very unlike me. Perhaps I just like this Plot Bunny :P **

**ANYWAY. Review.  
**


	5. Carved

**Title: _Little Hellion  
_**

**Chapter Title:_ Carved  
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**Chapter Quote:**_ "The only reason some people get lost in thought is because it's unfamiliar territory." ~ Paul Fix_

* * *

Dumbledore sighed, watching as one of his favorite pupils continued to shed tears. Her pink face was in her hands, and lank red hair unemotionally fell over her shoulders.

His heart wrenched, having just told Lily the cruel fate that had befallen the Longbottoms. They were found emptied of their inner organs, nailed to the brick walls of Diagon Alley with a different inscription messily carved onto each of their foreheads.

_"When the Dark Lord Rises..."_ Was engraved onto Frank's forehead, his brown eyes scarily lit in maniacal glee.

_"Should you have Betrayed the Lord..."_ Was on Alice's, her face contorted in utter fear and helplessness.

_"This will seem Merciful..."_ Neville was by far the worse. Excluding that was a mere child, chunks of flesh were _bitten_ out of him and his face had claw marks going down it, appearing self-inflicted. His fingers were broken and nose smashed horribly having two long slits cut into the bloody mess, uncannily resembling how Tom's nose looked.

The public was in disorder. Frank and Alice Longbottom were two of the best Aurors in the Ministry, and then to see a child mutilated so horribly...

Lily continued to sob, and Dumbledore wondered if he should have given her the watered down version of the events.

But he should have expected no less. The Longbottoms were very good friends of the Potters.

Alas, it wasn't the bodies that made a flash of pure shock cross Dumbledore's face, but the fact that Death Eaters had found the family. They were supposed to have attended Blaine's party, but didn't show. The _one_ time that they decided to leave their very secure home, the Death Eaters attack.

_A spy in the Order._

_

* * *

_Lily couldn't help it as sobs racked her body, and salty tears streaked down her face. She sniffed often, and chokes made her throat clench up tight.

She was a right mess.

Alice... oh Alice. She was her first witch friend. They had met on the train, right after an arrogant eleven-year-old James poked fun at Severus's hygiene. Lily had dragged Severus around, looking for another compartment until she stumbled upon Alice alone, reading a book and munching on a Chocolate Frog. She was of average height, but dark brown locks were cut short in a feminine bob.

Lily also fondly remembered when Frank Longbottom had passed by their compartment. Alice gave the handsome boy a quick look of longing then returning back to her book before he caught eyes with her. And then Frank looked over at the lovely Alice with longing, before one of his friends dragged him away. Lily thought it was pulled straight from a romance novel, but chose not to comment on the cuteness, unwilling to embarrass her new friend yet.

Then a few years later Alice got the guts to punch James in the face after a particularly nasty remark about Severus. Alice hadn't liked Severus much, but because of her loyalty to Lily she defended him.

For the Yule Ball, Frank took Alice aside, dropped on one knee and asked if she would be his date to the Ball. Alice had jumped in his arms and beamed the largest smile Lily had ever seen before giving him a kiss smack on the lips. She then left him, bouncing down the hallway with a bewildered an dazed Frank still kneeling.

Lily sobbed harder. They both found out they were pregnant on the same day. They both had their babies in the same month. They both held each other when the damned Prophecy was made known, and cried in sadness when they couldn't see each other till Voldemort wasn't a threat to their children

Now she was dead, tortured and killed in the most gruesome manner with her innards open for the world to see. Her poor Neville was given the same treatment, if not much worse, and Frank too.

Alice was _gone_.

* * *

It was... he couldn't... it.

The building in front of Harry was nothing short of humongous. Sturdy brick walls had minuscule windows at the top, and even still they were barred with thick metal. It looked exactly like a jail. The whole building seemed to radiate melancholy, and suddenly Harry felt like he would rather deal with snickering classmates than... these people.

Yes, they would have had to have done something to be put in here. What if one of them had killed someone?

This was a terrible mistake. If the students here didn't like him, then they had the ability to hurt him, much worse than anyone from his primary school could have. And then from the cruel smile of Vernon's heavy face, Harry didn't think his uncle would pull him out either.

A police man in front of the building had an expression of permanent disdain of his face. Dark sunglasses prevented harry from discerning any memorable features.

The man said one word. One word that seemed to muddle his brain.

"Strip."

"Err... what?" He said incredulously, taking a small step back. The police man in front of him offered a pronounced frown, and elaborated in a voice devoid of emotion.

"We need to check if you carry any dangerous items. Strip." Harry felt his chest clench. This _was_ a prison. He once took a jackknife to school, hidden in his backpack for the thrill of having something you weren't supposed to but no one had even given him a second glance. This school was serious.

Slade growled menacingly, but Harry gave a small tug on the leash to quiet him. The dog unhappily sat down, giving the policeman the evil eye.

Slowly Harry unzipped his black jacket, and felt it slip off his arms and pool around his legs. Fingers nimbly pushed small milky white buttons through the holes of his black button down shirt and slid that off as well. Soon belt and dark wash jeans were at his feet. But he didn't take his boxers off.

The policeman, who was previously ravaging through his suitcase looked up and made a twirling motion with his finger. Harry spun around in a slow circle, feeling more than slightly uncomfortable.

The cop came up to his half-naked body and started to pat him down, ruffling and searching through even his _hair_. The man pulled out a walkie-talkie, "He's safe. Almost too safe, but I've checked through everything. He has a dog with him, but it's well trained. I'm letting him in."

A buzzing voice came through the other end, but Harry heard it clearly, "Affirmative."

Harry quickly redressed, and walked passed the cop who quickly stiffened back into position. Looking behind him, Harry saw an angry boy with a jagged red scar cutting diagonally across his face, quickly stomping up.

As Harry went inside the building he distantly heard him shout, _"No I will not strip for you, you old pervert! Do you not get enough at home that you have to command a little boy such as myself to fulfill your sick pleasures? Go back to that whore you call a wife and drug her, then maybe you might finally get some!" _

A sharp slap was heard and Harry's stomach lurched forward.

"Are you Harrison Black?" A boy the same age as him asked, getting up from his position of leaning against the wall of a shadowy alcove. He had clear tawny eyes like butterscotch, and black hair that fell over his eyes when his head was tilted downwards. Around his eyes was lightly applied kohl, and he wore a diamond stud in his left ear.

Unusual.

"...Yes," Harry replied wary. Someone couldn't possibly know who he was yet. Slade glared at him, barring his teeth. The large Rottweiler wasn't very good around strangers.

"Good. I'm Cal Rosier, your guide and roommate... your dog is pretty grouchy. You don't abuse him or anything, right?" His hand stretch out and Harry shook it in greeting. Cal walked down the hallway and Harry followed next to him.

"Er... no." Harry almost smacked himself for fumbling around with his words. Fumbling meant nervousness, which could only conclude that he had to think about the answer.

Bad Harry.

Cal dug his hands in his jacket pockets, looking every bit like a depressed teenager. He peered at Harry from the corner of his eyes, "Nice scar, " He complimented, nodding slightly in appreciation.

Harry just nodded, fingering the silvery hook under his left eye.

"What are you taking?" Cal broke the awkward silence with a question.

Harry pulled the crinkled schedule out oh his back pocket. "English, Pre-Algebra, French, Art, History, Science, Theology, Physical Education, Health and Music."

"French?" Cal raised his eyebrow, "That's nice. I'm already fluent in French so I'm taking Spanish. Mademoiselle Colette Chevalier is the only woman on campus so she gets lots of attention, but she's pretty tough. There is girl's school about two miles off the highway, St. Amore's school for Unacceptably Tragic Females, and they sometimes come over for dances and stuff."

Incurably Criminal Boys. Unacceptably Tragic Females. Did whoever name these school feel particularly dramatic while doing so?

"Sooo... how did you get in here?" Cal questioned.

"I broke my cousin's his friend's nose on school campus. You?" His guide gave a confused look, turning to meet his eyes dead on.

"You broke two peoples noses? That's it? Listen, most of the other guys here had to go to St. Brutus's or find themselves in at a Juvenile Detention Center. Actually I'm pretty sure that St. Brutus doesn't accept people that haven't done something particularly bad. Unless the school was bribed."

Harry looked at Cal incredulously, "Bribed? My Uncle hates me sure, but I don't think he makes enough money to bribe a school."

His guide shrugged, "My step-father bribed the school and he doesn't make that much money. As soon as he married my mother he sent me away, in the summer no less. All he had to do was wag a couple of pounds in their face and suddenly St. Brutus got a summer program for guys starting in next year. Figure that I was the only one in this special program."

Harry's eyebrows rose, "Tell me about the school." It seemed that this question was all that was needed to launch Cal into an explanation.

"Well... it's damn cruel. I'll start with the punishments - all the teachers have a cane with them and they wack you with it for the most minor things: Slouching, talking, slurping, laughing, unneeded commentary, ect. But usually they put you on the treadmill. If your late ten minutes to class, you get ten miles, if your in a fight for thirty seconds you get thirty miles. If it's really long though, you can split the miles between a couple days.

Next is the security. Cameras are everywhere and police guards roam the hallways all day. There are cameras in the bathroom even - just not the stalls, but when you see two people go into a stall then things get suspicious and police come to investigate. If you do have drugs or something, then the best way to sell or pass it off is by discreetly handing it to someone in a crowd.

Uh... the guys here aren't nice. We've got robbers, stabbers, hackers, bullies, vandals, drug dealers... everyone. St. Brutus is very strict on who gets what; for example, hackers aren't allowed to have computers, and stabbers aren't allowed to use knives when we eat. But besides that there is a hierarchy like in most schools. One specific person isn't like the _'King of the School'_, but a couple have their own... followers and gangs and such.

The three main groups/gangs are called "The Resurrecters", "The Wedgers" and "The Acupuncturists." There are no real meanings for their names I think - well maybe long ago when they were first established, but not now. Anyways, Resurrecters and Acupuncturists get along pretty well, but Acupunturists _really_ hate the Wedgers and the Wedgers _really_ hate the Acupunturists. Resurrecters also hate the Wedgers, but they aren't as open.

Now this year, don't be surprised if you get pulled aside by a person from one of these groups. They're always looking to recruit, especially if they find out that you have a talent. But all of that put aside, rivalry becomes nonexistent when faced with another school or the teachers. Us Brutes have to stick together you know? 'Cause no one else will."

Harry paused for a moment to let all of this information sink in, feeling his brain hurt just slightly. "Are you in a group?" He asked, almost afraid for the answer.

Cal shook his head, "No. Maybe i'll get drafted into one this year, we'll see. But no matter what, i'm _not_ going to be a Wedger. My personal opinion is that they are arrogant toe-rags that think themselves as royalty. They think their skills are top, and bully out the weaker ones."

Bully. Flashes of Dudley slamming his fist into Harry's stomach flew threw his head. No. He wouldn't be a Wedger.

"How can people tell who belongs to what group?"

His guide sighed, "Well, there is only about six-hundred people in St. Brutus, so usually you can remember who belongs where. But each group has their own symbol and some people like to draw it on their hand with sharpie you know? Resurrecters's symbol is a raven - bird figure: they named it Omen. Wedgers's symbol is a bag of money, and Acupuncturists's symbol is a skull with needles poking out of it." Cal led them down a hall of doors, the floor of black linoleum, and stopped at door '240' and opened it.

Harry immediately felt like home.

* * *

**Lalalalala. **

**As for pairings as some of you have asked... I have a Poll up. But don't expect any hardcore or very steady relationships at the moment. He's eleven, not twenty.**

**I'm not opposed to doing Slash, but... I dunno you decide(POLL). Some people have asked for HPLV and that seems to be a popular option... we'll see.  
**

**Harry is a... less than Light character, but I'm sure i can twist whatever character to fit the bill. **

**Anyways I'll give you a peak into my mind. I've already paired Sirius up with someone, but I don't particularly think the pairing is very... common. Actually I don't think I've even seen it done before.  
**

**Review, my Lovelies!  
**


	6. Unrequited Happiness

**Warnings: More Torture. Ya just got to love that stuff, right?  
**

**Title: _Little Hellion  
_**

**Chapter Title:_ Unrequited Happiness  
_**

**Chapter Quote:**

_"There are so many hammocks to catch you if you fall, so many laws to keep you from experience. All these cities I have been in the last few weeks make me fully understand the cozy, stifling state in which most people pass through life. I don't want to pass through life like a smooth plane ride. All you do is get to breathe and copulate and finally die. I don't want to go with the smooth skin and the calm brow. I hope I end up a blithering idiot cursing the sun—hallucinating, screaming, giving obscene and inane lectures on street corners and public parks. People will walk by and say, "Look at that drooling idiot. What a basket case." I will turn and say to them "It is you who are the basket case. For every moment you hated your job, cursed your wife and sold yourself to a dream that you didn't even conceive. For the times your soul screamed yes and you said no. For all of that. For your self-torture, I see the glowing eyes of the sun! The air talks to me! I am at all times!" And maybe, the passers by will drop a coin into my cup." ~ Henry Rollin_

* * *

Lucius Malfoy expertly tied his pale blond hair into a loose ponytail with a velvet green ribbon. Looking in the mirror with glinting mercury eyes, he slipped on his silver Death Eater mask. Only the Inner Circle was allowed to customize their mask with little jewels and swirling patterns, and his had little emeralds surround the eye-slits.

But the lesser Death Eaters had bone white and were created in uniform, each one indistinguishable from the other. He remembered a time long ago, when he had to wear one, looking up at _his_ father's silver face.

A surge a pride washed over him, and his cold demeanor allowed a small smirk make it's way onto his face. He was now one of the thirteen Inner Circle members but he had to work like hell to get there. But it had paid off, and would continue to do so.

The only work he was required to do was slaughter muggles and Mudbloods, an activity that he enjoyed a little too much. Lucius's wife, Narcissa, would sometimes accompany him on the raids if she felt a particularly strong thirst to reap revenge or punish. He had always admired the way those Dark spells rolled off her tongue so naturally, and flew from her wand with ease. It was one of the facets of her that attracted him, excluding cold beauty and sharp wit.

If his wife had desired, she could have easily became one of the Inner Circle members along with her sister Bellatrix. But she had no such inclination, preferring to brew poisons with Calandra Zabini and raise Draco to become an elite part of society.

But she wasn't ever to be underestimated, after all not every housewife was like Molly Weasley.

No, his wife was skillful, dangerous, prideful, worthy, sharp, graceful and just as cold as he. And Lucius was _proud_ to walk beside her, head high and looking down at those lesser. But Parkinson on the other hand... he practically kept his pug-nosed wife locked in a closet and was _never_ seen with her.

Shameful. Lucius could hardly believe that pure blood could result in such unaristocratic features and meek demeanor. And to think they were distantly related.

Lucius picked up his wand and carefully used a cream handkerchief to clean off the imaginary dust that may have collected on it from a few hours earlier. He had gotten his perfect match at Ollivander's when he was eleven and excited about going to Hogwarts. It was by no means his first wand, but it was his first legal one and worked much better than anything else he had tried prior.

Much to his delight, his destined wand lit Ollivander's pants on fire before spraying green and silver sparks. Lucius's father, Abraxas, had looked at him amused before rolling his eyes and placing seven galleons on the table, leaving Ollivander to put the fire out by himself.

How naive he had been. Hogwarts was like a ride on a faulty broomstick. The Slytherin's head of house, Horace Slughorn preferred to woo talented students from other houses, brazenly thinking that all of Slytherin already worshiped him. The fool hardly stopped the prejudice being aimed at his own house, too enamored with trying to please others to think of protecting his own. Slughorn would let it all slide, without any detentions or loss of points if the attacker was potentially talented.

Dear _Horace_ thought that the Slytherins adulated him so much that he didn't need to cater to their whims, because they were all securely captured in his web.

So wrong he was.

Lucius swished out of the bathroom, stance shining with well earned arrogance. He stepped into the library and randomly picked out a Dark Arts book that he'd never read before. It was a little tradition of his. New spells had always came to him unnervingly fast, especially Dark ones, so before every raid he would pick a random spell from a random book and practice it on his victim of choice.

Tonight, the Inner Circle was raiding the Ministry - the Hall of Prophecies. After his Lord had regained the sanity, looks and the power of his former self he had started second guessing his choice to recognize the prophecy concerning him and Blaine Potter as invalid.

That drunken bint did descend from a line of prophets and seers after all.

* * *

Harry immediately felt like home.

In an odd, strange sort of way. The room was small, but cozy like a hotel room, and there was a twin bed on each side of the room and the door to a bathroom was between them. Cal, it seemed, didn't care to clean his room because clothes and junk was laying all over the place.

"They don't have cameras in here. A weakness, but St. Brutus could get into major legal trouble if there isn't _somewhere_ a guy could get some privacy." Cal smirked, eying the room almost pridefully.

"I hope your dog likes cats, Harrison -"

"Call me Harry," He interrupted, looking at a poster of some band on the wall.

"Harry then. I have a cat, and I don't fancy your dog eating her. Clia lives under my bed, and... your dog can live on top of your's."

Harry looked at his bed and knew it probably could fit Slade if he didn't move to much. At any rate, he'd be happy to share with his dog.

He put his suitcase on his bed and unzipped it, piling all the clothes into his dresser, and knickknacks he had stolen from the Dursley's went on top. The wallet Aunt Petunia had brought him was safe in his pocket, out of sight.

Cal gave him an amused look while he was unpacking, like he didn't understand why he would do such a thing. "C'mon Harry, let me introduce you to some of the people I know. I gather they'd be interested in you, not many guys under fifteen come here. It's rare eleven-year-olds such at ourselves get caught doing _'unimaginably terrible, and incurably criminal things.' _But before that I have to make you look acceptable. Us criminals have a stereotype to uphold after all."

* * *

Lucius strategically placed one foot in front of the other, letting his black Death Eater cloak fan out behind him yet still shrouding his body. Bellatrix stood beside him, giggling every now and again shooting him triumphant looks.

The Longbottoms should have been his, not hers.

The Dark Lord came to a stop in front of the back entrance, turning around to face them. His Lord had changed dramatically from the last time any of the Light had been graced with him. Gone was the greyish skin, bald head, slits for a nose and skeletal thin body. Now here was a Lord, much worthier to fight for. Only in his late twenties, Lord Voldemort might have been the most handsome man Lucius had ever laid eyes on. Tight dark chocolate waves fell to his shoulders and skin was unusually pale but attractively so. Everything about him screamed power, darkness and born of gentry. The only physical aspect left of his former insane self were the crimson irises and slightly elongated pupils.

Only a blind and deaf man would question why his father and everyone of the previous generation fell over themselves to gain favor with him. Slughorn had no chance.

Bellatrix trailed a long nail across the cheekbone of his mask, the vibrations making him tingle. "Lucius, love, do you know who is guarding the prophecy tonight?" She cooed gently, and Lucius couldn't help but admire her as he did Narcissa.

They were two very different women, born of the same two parents. One with light blonde hair and eyes like ice, the other with wild black hair and eyes of violets. The only thing stopping him from truly appreciating Bella was her blatant shows of insanity.

"No Bella, dear," he whispered silkily. It was like a game they played, to see who would become the mouse to the cat. Both were equal in status, highly in favor with their Lord, and they used pet names like 'Love' and 'Dear' and 'Sweetie' to address one another if not sarcastically at times. The only real feelings they had for each other was a generous amount of respect.

Bellatrix giggled lightly, the sweet tilt of her voice drew the rest of the Death Eaters eardrums, but Lucius was all but immune. "Oh, my sweet! You are in for a treat... unless I get to the pesky rebel first."

Treat... Bella only address one family as 'Lucius's _treats_'. One family that made his heart pound, blood quicken and mouth salivate.

The Weasleys.

* * *

He looked different. Who knew what a little kohl around the eyes could do?

Cal kept talking like an expert beautician, murmuring things he didn't understand. But the end result seemed to make him into a whole new person. Emerald eyes popped, and he couldn't seem tear his gaze away from himself.

God, how vain did that sound?

Cal excitedly tore him form the chair and started to drag him outside, Slade following obediently. Cal stopped at a door and banged on it, tapping his foot impatiently.

A click was heard and a head peered out. He was tall and thin with light brown hair and pearly blue eyes, "Sup?"

"Great Xee, I've got my new roommate! His name's Harry," Harry felt distinctly like a trophy being shown around, thrust at everyone wishing for a look.

"God Cal, don't scare the guy. Come in?" The door opened and Harry could only stare inside. It was dark put the shiny plastic of dozens of posters illuminated the room. Like theirs, Xee's room had two beds and large guy that looked like lifted weights on a regular basis was on one, blasting loud music through his headphones.

Cal turned towards Harry, "This is Xavier Austen - Xee. He was my guide when my stepfather dropped me off. Xee got down here because he hacked his school' computer, like seriously hacked it. It was a public school too: he changed everyone's grades, but was caught because he was laughing too loudly. Seriously, Xee I can't believe you did that!" Xee shrugged his shoulders, not looking the slightest bit upset. "He's sixteen, and got sent to St. Brutus's a year ago. And on the bed is Dennis Bluecrest - _Dennis the Menace_, and stabbed a bunch of people. And he was Xee's guide... also is sixteen."

Dennis looked at me for a split second, "Harrison Black? 'Zat you? The famous one that showed that Dursley slime up real good." Harry let a moment of shock cross his face. _Famous...?_

Dennis laughed, "Yeah, you didn't know? Whole Surrey is talkin' about how you almost killed two innocent bystanders in a fit of unstoppable rage. Now, we in Great Whining know that you only broke a couple of noses, but still. Welcome abroad the ship of Hell."

Harry gave him a confused look, "I didn't think anyone from Surrey went here."

He snorted, "Too right. We're the only ones. Anyways my epic story isn't exactly for the lighthearted but is anyone's around here? So listen, one night I was in my room, all chill and about to go to sleep, you know? But then I hear banging and dishes crashing onto the floor, my mum's boyfriend yells and she screams, and I rushed out of bed, because who knows what that goddamn man is doing.

So as I sneak down stairs, I see like five big guys and my mum is on the floor, her clothes are a bit torn and they're kicking her all over the place. My mum's boyfriend is just watching, you know? With that sort of pleased look in his eye, and his friends rip more of her clothes. Now, I can like see all the bruises and cuts and stuff, because she always used to wear jackets and long pants ever since she started dating him.

Now, i get really scared because... well it's my mum, right? So I go into the kitchen and get the first knife I could find. I come back into the living room, and surprisingly my mum's still conscious, but all the guys are there - smiling like little boys who are about to thieve a cookie from a cookie jar. Before they even know whats going on I stab them all, just once, real quick. But once they're down I give em' a second round then maybe a fifth or sixth to that jack of a boyfriend she has.

Next thing I know my mum's calling the police and they come and arrest me. The scene looks real suspicious because, well she's all bruised and there are five guys on the floor... and I couldn't have just stabbed 'em for nothin' right?

But then my whore of a mother testifies _against_ me, and claims it was all in a fit of rage. I think it's just because that's what her arse boyfriend's other friends want to here, ya' know? Avenge the fallen and all that. So now I'm stuck here and God knows what's happening with my mum and those shitholes that are running around scott-free. I swear though, I'll kill them once I'm out. Nothing's gonna stop me, see here?" Dennis flex his bulging muscles, "This will help. I can't go home over the summer like most people here, but once I'm eighteen i'll be free to deliver my own justice." The man plugged the earphones back into his ears, and started tapping his pencil on the notebook he was writing on.

Harry was just astounded, and from the look on Cal's face he'd never heard the story either. Harry felt... Wow'd at the guy's determination, just completely star-struck.

Dennis the Menace and Xee the accomplished hacker. Well done Harry, want a treat?

* * *

"You won't get it!" Arthur Weasley shouted fearfully, still reeling in shock that the _Dark Lord was back_. It was really too bad that he won't be able to tell anyone.

His Lord raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him before ushering the rest of the Death Eaters on, "Find the Prophecy, but don't touch it!" He hissed, before turning towards Lucius.

"Lucius, I believe you've wanted your own toy, since Bella stole the Longbottoms from right under your nose? This a small treat for your loyalty, a toy all for yourself," The Dark Lord stalked away, a placid smirk on his face.

Lucius relished in the utter desperation his foe was _radiating_. His prey... cornered, alone, stuttering...

He couldn't help it. With a suave swish of his wand the mask seemed to melt off his face, and he faced Arthur Weasley uncovered. Let the blood traitor know who's going to end his life.

_"Malfoy,"_ Arthur hissed with loathing, sounding very much like a snake. "I knew you _were _one of them! I _knew_ it!" Arthur raised his wand with a slight smile on his face.

How _dare_ that incompetent, impoverished, dirty little fat mouse think he was even slightly a match for him? Nothing sent his blood boiling faster than a Weasley, and he was ashamed to even let such an unworthy flea get under skin.

Oh yes, he would have _lots_ of fun. Draw out the screams till he couldn't sing those lovely pain-filled tunes anymore.

"Weasley. Pity even facing death, your dreadful upbringing shines through," Lucius drawled, looking at Arthur from the tip of his nose and lazily fingering his wand.

The blood traitor growled and cast a _'Stupefy'_ his way. Merlin, why did he even...?

Lucius smirked dangerously, remembering the incantation he picked up from less than an hour ago. The tip of his wand lit up in a sickly puce color, smoking tendrils of curling magic.

_"Inops Felicitas," _Lucius intoned quietly. The spell shot forward but nothing happened to Arthur. A soft nagging at something deep in his abdomen, and he suddenly realized that the spell needed more than just words and power. It needed passion, emotion, soul.

Arthur gave a small smirk and was about to cast another _'Stupefy'_, but Lucius regained his demeanor and Arthur finally saw what everyone else saw when they looked at him. This was no schoolboy, the blond wasn't eleven anymore. He radiated darkness and power and the way he stanced himself let everyone know it. This man was a Death Eater, an _Inner Circle_ one no less and he enjoyed it.

_"INOPS FELICITAS,"_ Lucius roared and a lightning bolt of puce stuck Arthur. His nemesis fell to his knees with pain and Lucius unleashed a wicked smile on his face, showing his inner insanity.

But the spell had so much more potential than just simply bringing someone down on their knees. More emotion.

_Arthur swaggered forward, looking meek yet proud. Thrusting out his chest, a shiny gold 'Head Boy' badge caught the light. Lucius felt his stomach drop and he fought not to show it. That badge was supposed to be his. His alone. He got better grades, he was more determined, he was wealthy, he was powerful, he had the connections and hell, he even was better looking!_

_Lucius had opened his Hogwarts letter in private, hoping more than he ought to have that the desirable gold badge would fall into his lap. It utterly crushed him when all that was in there was a bland letter. He couldn't strut down the grand staircase with pride and puff out his chest. Lucius had nothing to show his girlfriend Narcissa Black how superior he was to the other men trying to vie for her attention._

_Catching twinkling blue eyes from his peripheral vision his hatred rose. It wasn't his fault, he did nothing wrong. It was just more injustice._

_"INOPS FELICITAS," _Arthur's blue eyes rolled into the back of his head, and all the scars he had ever gotten reopened themselves, slowly bleeding. Lucius sneered when he realized how out of shape Arthur was. He had always been short, below average even but now he had acquired a potbelly.

Disgusting.

_"Mr. Weasley, what is a werewolf?" Arthur stuttered, trying to come up with reasonable description. Merlin, how could he not know? Everyone knew what a werewolf was!_

_"It's a human that transforms every full moon into a wild monster, right?" Arthur answered, and Lucius thought he looked awfully pathetic. Almost unconsciously he felt a familiar sneer form on his face._

_The professor looked at Lucius with a frown, "That is correct, five points. Mr. Malfoy would like to elaborate since you _obviously_ know much more?" She said sarcastically, earning snickers from the Gryffindors._

_"Of course professor," Lucius went on like it was a serious question, "Werewolves live in packs and lone wolves often become depressed when they aren't with their's during the full moon. Alpha werewolves can change into their form even when it's not a full moon, and if they have good control, can resist the full moon as well. As humans, werewolves have a superior sense of smell and hearing. There is one man by the name of Maenalus Ancyor who had the animagus form was a werewolf." Lucius hid a smug smile at the shocked looks from both the teacher and the Gryffindors. His fellow Slytherins gave him lazy smiles, and thumbs-ups._

_Once the professor recovered she sniffed in disdain, "You've forgotten about the fact that female werewolves don't transform when they are pregnant. Anyways, a point for Slytherin._

_Five points for Arthur and only one for him?_

_"INOPS FELICITAS,"_ Arthur's freckled skin started to peal and flesh sizzled and burned off his bones, leaving him in slowly forming puddle. Pained cries and begs spilled from Arthur's lips and Lucius felt a wave of pleasure rush into him. He stomped up to Arthur and kicked him viciously, again and again, releasing all the pent up anger and stress that this man had caused him.

_Lucius sat on the stool of a cheap apothecary, uninterestedly watching his father berate the man behind the counter for not only having rotten ingredients but threatening people about how the rage of the Dark Lord would befall them if they didn't give the man whatever he wanted. Apparently the Dark Lord's name wasn't supposed to be used in vain._

_Today held a hot summer sun, and it was only a few days until Lucius's fifth birthday. He really wanted that new broomstick showcased in the window._

_"Ello', I'm Arthur!" A redhead boy with a smudge on his nose plopped next to him, and Lucius greeted him in return. The boy's mother was searching through the jars of newt eyes, looking for a suitable pair to purchase._

_Were they really so poor that they actually had to shop here? In this cheap, dingy place?_

_Arthur looked at him up and down with a frown, "Your clothes are real fancy, did you know that?" He said with not a little bit of jealousy. Lucius looked down at his Acromantula silk robes, noting it was one of his rather cheap pairs. His father had said that they were going somewhere for the poor people, and Lucius had chosen one of his least best robes. _

_"These aren't fancy. I have much better ones, " Lucius replied stiffly, for the first time noticing what the poor soul was wearing. Rags was too polite a term. _

_A sneer encompassed Arthur's face, embarrassment clear,"I've got to go. I don't have time for arrogant ponces." He slipped off the stool and went to his mother, tugging on her skirt. Lucius couldn't hear what they were saying but Arthur's mother looked over at him icily, putting a jar into her basket and walking up to him. _

_"How dare you insult the Weasley name, you spoiled brat!" She shrieked and Lucius had the urge to run and hide behind his father._

_"I didn't -" _

_"Yeah he did mum! Don't listen to him. He keeps showing off his fancy robes and saying how we can't have any," Arthur interrupted, pointing a stubby finger at him. The next thing he knew, the sharp sound of flesh on flesh and a red hand print slowly appeared on his face. _

_Lucius started brawling his eyes out, the pain hurting so much. Past his blurry eyes he could hear shouting. _

_"You dare even touch let alone _wound_ a _Malfoy_, you impoverished piece of filth? Blood-treacherous slime -!" _

Lucius ground his teeth, the ghost of the sting faintly tingling his cheek. A woman had died on the floor that day in the apothecary, and Lucius had been eternally happy he didn't have to deal with her anymore. _"INOPS FELICITAS," _Arthur's eyes popped out of his head, hanging delicately on the quickly fraying nerves. The mouth that was previously screaming lost it's tongue, and a black fire crept up over Arthur and used his pores to burrow under his skin.

Slowly, Lucius's enemy died before his eyes and the blond felt more than satisfied.

_...You've already claimed for revenge on all those Weasleys, dear. Let the rest of us have some fun..._

One down, more than a dozen to go. After all, Arthur's brood wasn't the only Weasley line he had to eradicate.

_

* * *

_

**This is like... a double chapter and I did it in one day. Worship me or something. **

**Grrr... I've got a roundabout for what I'm going to do with Harry/? but you're all going to have to grit your teeth and bear it.**

**I know most of you think i'm probably a closet sadist with all the torture appearing in threeish chapters. Hahaha. Writing torture is fun, no? Much easier to write than lovey-dovey emotional ones.**

**REVIEW, LOVES. I'll kill you if you don't.  
**


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